


Conduct

by teaspoonofdoom



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Astrology, Bickering, Crack Treated Seriously, Drinking, F/M, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Post-Episode: s03e13 Syzygy, Smoking, There Is Only One Room, a tad bit of angstiness bc i can't write w/ o it, and other ooc moments that make sense within the ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspoonofdoom/pseuds/teaspoonofdoom
Summary: "Don't know 'boutmacho, but I am a gentleman, Scully. Good night."Mulder and Scully on the road after Comity and it's weirdness. Some of it has rubbed off on them and they continue to struggle with one another.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24
Collections: X-Files Dialogue Fanfic Exchange (2021)





	Conduct

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nowwhateinstein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowwhateinstein/gifts).



> for Patty, whose prompt was one of the ones I liked best even before I signed up, and thus felt very lucky to get! While the end result is not at all what I expected to come up with, I had a great time writing it. Hope you can enjoy reading it!

Mulder remains quiet for the most part. Checking the map, keeping track of the road. Not sharing his observations with _the driver_ , who made it clear she didn't need him as a navigator. Which is fine. He's not of much use in the passenger seat. And that's how Scully likes him that night, apparently. Easy to ignore.

"Um, I believe we were supposed to take the next left-" he tries in the mids of a sharp turn. The belt biting into his neck as his shoulder presses to the door. Scully spares him a momentary look, a wince of her brows with a shake of her head. A 'huh?' look. 

By the time he's straightened the map, they're well on a road too narrow for a U-turn. Mulder discards it altogether and reaches for the radio. There's a certain unspoken rule regarding it, but Scully lets him change the stations freely. Until a snippet of _Sabre Dance_ slips and she, Mulder hopes unwillingly, steps on the gas. 

He's about to comment on the gears, but Scully gets it under control. The same can't be said about his attempts with the radio. He settles on something that sounds a lot like Elvis in between the static.

Scully's eyes are glued to the road, but he knows it's irritating her. The tapping of her fingers against the wheel - not an indicator of beat time. 

_Could she be on her period?_ The thought occurs to him so suddenly, he's glad they weren't chatting, lest he blurp it out. He forces down a laugh and lowers the volume.

Thing is, she very well could be, and it wouldn't explain anything. For all he knows, she was on her period when they first met. Only no. _He knows for sure she wasn't exactly then._ But any other time - fair game. When he can tell, it is only by the number of bathroom breaks and painkillers she takes. Not even a stronger appetite. They've worked together for two years, that's over 24 periods, Scully's never acted the way she did on that case.

Staring out the window, he notices a village sign. Looks for it on the map.

"Uh, Scully, where are we?"

"On our way to DC."

"Ah, but of course," his voice drips with sarcasm. "Definitely not looking for a place to dispose of my dead body, aren't you?"

Usually, Scully'd bite back a smile at that. Her lips don't quiver. He tracks down the village on the map as they pass its exit sign and comes to the muttered conclusion: "We're lost."

He can't say by looking at her if Scully even heard him, so he clears his throat and repeats with cautiousness: "Scully, I think we're lost."

She exhales sharply.

"I see that you want to be involved, but can't you just- _stop_?"

"Just pull over and I'll show you the map-" He says at the same time as she does: "Try and take a nap-"

"I will, ok, I will. But it's like 2 am, what if you get sleepy?"

"Oh, I'm wide awake. Don't worry."

"Maybe we should get coffee- _Oh right_ , we're in the middle of nowhere!" 

A muscle in her cheek twitches but she doesn't rise to the bait. The speed of the car picks up tangibly, though.

"Ok, how about if we come across anything," Mulder attempts bargaining, "be it a twenty-four-hour or a motel, you'll stop?"

"But you'll sleep, or at least quit distracting me?"

"Sure."

"Fine."

And Mulder does try, for a while. Even after he's certain sleep won't come to him, he still pretends to be out. Until they drive past _something_ bright. Its lights cause him to shut his half-opened eyes. And jump in his place.

"Scully!"

"You awake?"

"That wasn't the deal, you're driving past a motel right now!"

He reaches for the wheel and she shoots him a glare. Next thing he knows the car's in the middle of a U-turn. 

Scully drives them back to the unobtrusive roadside building. Now that he can take a better look at it, the motel is far from shiny, but the slightly rotten sign in front of it reads _Vacancy_. 

"Oh, are you in luck!" the receptionist jingles a single key in the air, and winks, "My last room."

Scully doesn't try to hide her exasperation, doing her signature full-body eye roll, "Could you point us in the direction of the nearest motel?" 

The man startles. Mulder himself does a double-take at Scully's snappiness. First rude to detective White, but that could be _partly_ excused by her strictly scientific approach to their work, and now to that blameless motel clerk.

Mulder takes her a couple of steps away from the other man with a hand on the small of her back. Effectively spearing him from her unexplainable hostility.

"You take it, I can sleep in the car." Scully's expression remains blank even as he sing-songs the last part, "Problem solved."

Mulder braces for her _"Is that what you're going to tell Skinner?"_ , but instead she spins on her heel with a barely audible "Fine."

He just stares blankly as Scully grabs the key from the clerk and heads down the hall. The receptionist chuckles: "Hardest job in the world is staying in the wife's good graces, am I right? And it's an ex-lorry driver that's talking."

"I suppose you don't have any spare blankets?"

He doesn't. He turns out to be an insomniac like Mulder, and the two of them chat until the clerk 'has to take a piss'. Scully storms down the hall then.

"How's the room?" Mulder tries but she ignores him, heading out. He follows her to the car which she unlocks. Before he can offer to carry her bag again she's already opening the truck. And stomping back inside the motel's lobby.

"Hey- hey, Scully," he calls weakly after her. The door almost hits him in the face. He barely manages to not bump into her, having stopped at the beginning of the hall, probably due to the heaviness of her luggage.

"What." Her tone robs the word of any question.

"Um... Sleep tight." Mulder swallows, reaching for the bag's handle blindly. But she's ahead of him, offering a bitter "Likewise." and her turned back once more.

He huffs a humorless laugh, taking a few more steps along, looking for a thing to say. Scully beats him to it: "Or are you tactfully trying to suggest I take the car, and you the room. After all, I, with my little legs and all, would fit just right in there."

They both come to a stop in front of what he figures must be her door. She's got dare in her eyes. He takes the luggage from her at last and nods to the lock. She tosses him a key chain and opens the evidently unlocked door. 

Mulder follows her inside, not unlike a vehicle sucked into a tornado. He sets her bag on the floor next to her _double_ bed and forces a sticky-sweet voice:

"Don't know 'bout _macho_ , but I am a gentleman, Scully. Good night." 

And walks back out. Hears Scully scoff and raise her voice: "Why, I won't mind giving up the bed if you're expecting somebody."

But doesn't humor her further.

Scully may or may not play out, _and win_ , imaginary arguments in the shower afterwards. Feeling only slightly less reeling as she steps out of the bathroom. She gets into the pajamas she never got around to putting on in Comity. Sinks into the bed.

The first few moments of the long-awaited rest are blissful, but she can't slip into unconsciousness. Can't quite turn her brain off yet. Pulling the duvet up under her chin, she can't help but think of Mulder. Of how cold he probably is. How he'd either have to endure it or risk the car's accumulator. Unless he has someone to keep him warm. He's not one to have trouble finding company for the night. But on the job? That's a new low. It's not like she hasn't heard rumors. Rumors she was inclined to believe once they met and he overstepped the line of professional distance from the get-go and on the regular. 

Scully tries her hardest not to run over the events of the case in her head. To no avail. Then she concentrates on precisely that- the case and nothing else. No hotel room bedrooms, no blond virgin comments, no sniffing, nothing but the trail of evidence. Stripping the last day of all of its annoying, ridiculous, maddening details, what Scully turns around in her mind starts to read like a field report. To the point where she entertains the idea of actually starting on it. 

She watches some TV instead. Thankfully this motel offers more than a single channel. Not that in this late hour there's anything interesting on.

A black-and-white flapper lady presses a cigarette-holder to her darkened lips, exhales a cloud of smoke, and leans back in the frame with a smirk. From the other side of the screen, Scully gets the intense urge to do just the same. Only not inside her room this time around.

She puts on her nightgown under the coat for good measure. Still, can't help but come back for a blanket, before she goes out in the cold.

After taking the fifth in a row 'final' sip from his new impromptu cocktail mix, Mulder turns the engine off. The radio cuts off, as the heating, enfolding him in silence. He relaxes on the seat, bend down and back to its limit. His legs aren't quite stretched out, his position is far from horizontal, but it's not half bad. With the slight buzz in his head, he's already drifting off.

Then a knock on the window brings him back to the waking world. Scully's silhouette is something biblical, street light bright behind her, igniting the redder than ever hair around her head. The lucid moment lasts, well, less than a moment, before she's swinging the door open and throwing something inside. Over his head, in his lap, or just in his general direction, who's to tell. She says something but he doesn't catch it. Then he registers the slam of the car door.

Mulder catches another glimpse of her as she passes the driver's side. He thinks she's about to open this door and take her seat. His heart tightens with anticipation.

She keeps on walking. Back towards the motel. More a force of nature than a woman engulfed in the dark. Her black coat swings with the vigor of her step, giving her almost ghost-like transparency. She's merging with the night.

Mulder has half a mind to follow. He's managed to tangle himself in the blanket somehow. By the time he gets free, he's sure Scully would have retreated to the motel. He spots a figure by the door. Simply standing there. And he stays in the car some more. 

His hand finds his coat pocket. Takes out some of the torn-off notes he took at the numerologist. And wonders if he should pair Scully's birth chart with some of them, knowing she won't be bothered to look into the stuff herself. If she accepts the gift at all. She sure seems mighty pissed at him.

He turns on the light in the car to try and read some. (And see if he can unlock that part of her that's basically a middle-aged dad on a road trip.) He's holding the note about _Mars - the planet of energy, action, desire_ (apparently). Under that lays a small clarification: _Venus - rom., M - sex. attraction ___

__Mulder's neck feels warmer. His ears too, he has to laugh. He's not a teenager. Taking a swing from the vodka mix, he blames the hot waves on it._ _

The rest of the note lists: 

_in Scorpio  
_

_other ppl - never indifferent toward them_ 
_attract great loyalty or great hostility, nthg in between_ 


__

_in Pisces_  


_detectives, prison wardens, or doctors_ 
_tendency for love affairs - successfully hidden from the public eye_ 
_actions affected by strong emotional undercurrents_ 


He wishes he wrote something to distinguish his from Scully's alignments since he can't check with the two charts from his luggage. Luckily, he happened upon one of those that just fits. One of those that make you consider believing in astrology. 

Still, Scully's 'about' reads like two truths and a lie. Mulder's not sure which one is the lie though. And to come to a conclusion, he'd have to revisit the stories of past relationships Scully's shared with him. The bit with her (now late) instructor at the academy brings back memories of her in grave danger. 

Mulder gets out of the car. 

He's got a couple of conversation-starters in the back of his head as he draws nearer. _Teenagers are even eviler nowadays, am I right?_ being the most likely candidate. None come out as he gets to Scully's side, probably for the best. He nods hello and leans on the wall. 

__She pretends she has a reason to be there at all. Shoulders square and hands as deep in her pockets as they would go. _Not cold at all._ She takes out a box and a lighter. _ _

__Mulder realizes he's not cold himself. He contemplates accepting her upcoming offer. There's something about cigarettes with alcohol..._ _

__"You really should lock that door, you know, Mulder."_ _

__"Yeah, why not-"_ _

__The flicker interrupts him, casting Scully’s face in warmth. One of those thick cigarettes hangs between her lips. He wonders if lipstick stains would prettify this end of the dead-stick._ _

__Mulder's in need of something to do. It's good to just be out there with Scully. But that's not their usual comfortable silence. There's something so not right about it. It's the car ride all over again. He should have taken his bottle out. He deserves to indulge in a guilty pleasure, that's not even pleasurable to begin with, as much as she does._ _

__An uncomfortable conversation is the next best thing._ _

__"So, you don't smoke?" He lets it sit in the air between them awkwardly._ _

__"And I don't drive. Take it as a once in a blue moon thing."_ _

__Mulder cranes his neck on instinct. The moon's not visible from where they're standing. Perhaps it falls behind the motel..._ _

__"But you do drive, just not with me, right. Is it like that with-"_ _

__"No, Mulder, it's not. Why are you-"_ _

__"Because I don't drink either!"_ _

__She doesn't respond, bringing the cigarette to her mouth. It's a deep drag. The sound of the paper burning up distracts Mulder. He wants a taste of it._ _

__"Scully," her face seems pained, "I can't help but feel like you're pissed at me. Whatever is the reason behind that?"_ _

__She shifts. Changing her weight from one leg to the other. Her expression becomes guarded, voice bitter._ _

__"I don't see what made you feel that way." She says as she dusts her cigarette off on his shoes._ _

__Both his shoulders meet the wall, he lets it support him as he stretches out his legs, nearing Scully's height in the process. Her hand comes up, silently offering him a drag. He reaches before he's had the time to consider if he actually feels like smoking. After all, Scully's handing something to him. He takes it between his thumb and pointer, then pointer and middle finger. Stops half-way to his lips._ _

__"They seem heavy."_ _

__And Scully smiles. Maybe just at his hesitation, or maybe simply at him. There's a blush on her cheeks and nose. It's cold he reminds himself._ _

__

__Mulder coughs and says something stupid as he returns it back to her. Declines the next offer but doesn't discourage her from lighting a second one. She feels young. Younger at least. Up at three-something to bum one out. Find an excuse to be around a boy she hardly stands._ _

__Mulder talks about the case. It doesn't irritate her. She scarcely has to respond, he declaims her view to himself throughout. And eventually drops it._ _

__It's nice. Nicer than the rush of nicotine and nicer than the bed back inside. But there's only so much reason for them to keep standing out there. Maybe she should invite him in, they've already booked the room, it's on record._ _

__As gentle as the wind is, it still makes Scully shiver. She's readjusting her collar to shed her better from the cold when she notices Mulder looking down her neckline. The outrage warms her up._ _

__Her partner must figure he's been caught because he stutters out a pathetic: "I- No, I like that robe, is all."_ _

__"And I'm a big fan of your tie." Scully retorts wryly with her eyes narrowed._ _

__He smiles weakly, his hand coming up to straighten it on its own account, but it meets only shirt fabric. Yeah, he's not wearing it._ _

__"Don't pout, Scully. I'll go grab it." And just like that, he jogs off to the car._ _

__"What-"_ _

__Scully takes a long drag. Turns around to put the cigarette out and get inside already. Then a slight weight is draped over her shoulders._ _

__"Mulder-"_ _

__She spins in his arms, the blanket slipping off. He catches it, one hand on her back, the other to her elbow, tangled in fabric. With a little maneuvering, that she endures in a nonplussed manner, Mulder envelops her in the blanket. A satisfied, if a little crooked, grin spreads on his features._ _

__Scully looks up to his eyes. He meets her gaze a little delayed. Once he does, another thing seems to occur to him, because his hand reaches out and touches her hair. Scully grows aware of their extreme proximity. The heat radiating from her body cannot be blamed on the one added layer._ _

__"And you're a doctor," Mulder utters in disbelief. Hands close around the blanket once more, lifting it off her shoulders and over her head. "Out with wet hair in the middle of December."_ _

__She tears off of him, pointer finger up to his chest._ _

__" _Your_ shirt's hanging open!"_ _

__"It is not!" He looks down at his clothes. While his _coat_ is hanging open, his shirt is barely a button or two loose. Very little skin and chest hair sticking out, but nonetheless there. "And besides that- I'm not even cold."_ _

__"Yes, because you're tipsy!" Scully can almost taste the sour alcohol with how hard he reeks of it. "I can't leave you with the keys."_ _

__She heads to the car, Mulder cries out behind her._ _

__"Oh, but you can leave me out there in the cold?"_ _

__"You're drinking on the job, and not only," she's listing as she goes, not even sure he's within hearing range, "I don't know how could I leave you on your own at all! By the sheer number of times you've ditched me-"_ _

__"Oh, Cancerwoman's talking-" Mulder cuts himself off. And she stops dead in her tracks, giving him the opportunity to catch up with her._ _

Scully changes her course to _back to the motel_ only to bump into Mulder. His hands fly to her forearms immediately at the point of contact. The blanket he presumably got off the ground a couple of moments earlier falls down again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, it just slipped up." He's even bent at the knees, pleading with his eyes. 

"If you'd excuse me, Agent Mulder, I should get back to sleep, long day tomorrow. Or do you believe secrets stay buried, people get abducted, etc. all on their own?"

The bitter caricature of one of Them does wonders for keeping Scully's increasing anger under control.

"Scully, you know how I am about cigarettes. I wasn't implying-"

"Well, If you detect a hint of indignation or umbrage in Agent Scully's voice, that's because of her partner's levity, flippancy, and utter negligence."

Mulder winces at the strong words. Then something else flashes over his face. Realization?

"Is this all about the horny- the horned beast mark? The satanist angle?"

"Don't ask me." She sing-songs, trying not to linger on the slipped-up word.

"Did- did Detective White say something to you?"

"Yeah, we talked about how good of a kisser you are," Scully fights to remain her tone sarcastic even as her voice goes several decibels up by a word, "And about her, uh, perfume, you know-"

"Scully." Mulder's hands haven't left her arms, which she realizes she'd moved around for emphasis. He squeezes softly to get her attention, voice so much quieter than hers it seems just above a whisper: "I don't know if you two talked, I assumed you did since she didn't apologize to me." 

"I don't follow."

"I tried to tell you it wasn't what it looked like-"

"Save it. I won't report you and it's not my business-"

"But it's important to me. That you know." He raises his voice too and lowers it again. "I'm not like that." 

Scully nods, drops her head. Mulder's hands lose their grip, she thinks he'd finally let go of her, but instead they trace down her sleeves. She swings her own back in her pockets just as his reach her wrists. Taking a step back she takes out the cigarette box.

"And I'm not a smoker."

Mulder sighs, defeated. Picks up the blanket and holds it to his chest like a little boy after a nightmare. Scully's perfectly content. She's ready to finish the cigarette, stub it out and see Mulder in a couple of hours.

"Could we split it?" He asks weakly.

"Sure." Her answer comes out surprisingly, even to her, easy-going. And too quick.

"By the car?"

"Whatever." That one sounds way meaner. 

When they reach it, Scully hands him the cigarette and sits on the hood of their rental. Doesn't spare him a glance, giving him the privacy of not inhaling into his lungs. He returns it to her and goes to get something out of the car. When he joins her, there's a bottle in his hand. He opens it as Scully offers the cigarette to him, holding up a finger to signal her to wait. She doesn't. He takes a sip, she takes another drag. 

They go like that for a while. Until Scully has no more cigarette to smoke. Mulder suggests the bottle.

"Vodka?" She looks at the pale orange liquid. It's not tempting her.

He nods, whipping at his mouth. _So screwdriver, huh?_

"No thanks." 

"Oh, take this at least," Mulder drops the car keys in her palm. The metal stark against his warm fingers. "I know I wouldn't drive like that-"

"You already did."

He jumps off the hood to defend himself, his step unsteady. "I was soberer then. But you're right, we both acted unprofessionally in Comity."

"Both?" Scully echoes, but she can't keep the amusement out of her voice as Mulder's drunkenly trying to make a point.

"Anyway... Here are the keys," He closes his hand around hers, "So you can sleep calmly. Once you've locked me up."

Scully shakes her head with a laugh. He raises his other hand to wave a finger in her face. Leaning his hip in the hood between her legs for balance.

"Mulder-"

He jumps as if burned, starts pacing before her.

"Shh- I know I caused you turmoil on this case, and I may not know what exactly aggravated you," it's more like he's talking to himself rather than to her, "but I believe I can blame it on the planets just this once," the pointing finger waves in the general direction of the stars, then at her, "because you've caused me great confusion..." 

He trails off. Gaze either blank or ogle, Scully can't tell. Shifting, moving up her face to meet hers. It dawns on Scully she's also staring unblinkingly once the two of them make eye contact. It's a moment before she can break it off. The best way she can think of is to slide off the hood, watch her landing. Mulder must be concerned about it too because he takes a step in her direction.

"I think I'd like to..." Scully wants to ask him to finish. Even if it's obvious what he's gravitating towards, she's stern:

"Mulder, I'd like to remind you that you've been drinking."

"You've been doing uncharacteristic things as well." 

He is at an arm's length. Swinging on the balls of his feet.

"And you suggest we keep on?"

"I suggest you kiss me if you want to. Because I want to. And I kinda want to pretend it's the alcohol, but you won't let me, right?"

"I couldn't." She tilts her head up and walks into his arms. Mulder seems to stop breathing. "But I haven't been drinking, what would my excuse be?"

Mulder's barely following, it's obvious. He swallows down hard and opens his mouth, but she keeps talking, the barely-there presence of his hands on her back urging her: "Maybe I'd have to agree with your cosmic interference theory."

He gasps in awe and asks: "You really would?" Scully stands on her tiptoes and pecks the side of his smile. It turns into a grin. He adds lowly: "What else could you do."

Next thing she knows he's cupping her cheek. Scully expects him to dive straight in but they share a look and each gives the other a nod before Mulder leans down and seals their lips together. Scully melts into it, slowly returning the kiss, her hands against his chest as one of his rubs small circles across her back.

**Author's Note:**

> It's not as smutty as it should have been (the worst part is I know exactly how I want it to play out, but couldn't get it out)
> 
> I think this is the most I've ever researched anything and still get like nothing, yes the astrology aspect. I used [this site](birth-chart-horoscope-online) to check M and S's birth charts, analyzed them and all... rewrote a flashback of M at Madame Zirinka's like 10 times
> 
> But it was lots of fun writing this challenge, I hope it was a fun read too
> 
> Thank you for reading and Thank you Patty for the prompt ;D


End file.
